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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27739054">date night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmandroid/pseuds/Emmandroid'>Emmandroid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>my roommate is an internet food sensation [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, First Dates, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Roommates, like the littlest angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:09:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,594</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27739054</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmandroid/pseuds/Emmandroid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark is in for the surprise of his life.</p>
<p>Alternatively, Yukhei wants to spoil his baby boy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>my roommate is an internet food sensation [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013838</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>date night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi! if you haven't read "blame it on the rat," i suggest going through that first! as this is a chronological sequel to that one</p>
<p>enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In retrospect, they probably shouldn’t have confessed to each other at the literal end of the semester. Mark and Yukhei were on a shared high in the immediate wake of their confessions (and subsequent makeout session), that they only belatedly remembered they were leaving for the holiday break the very next morning. Not even a full 24 hours into their sparkling new relationship and already they’d have to navigate long distance and a 16-hour time difference, what with Mark going home to Vancouver and Yukhei to Hong Kong.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That night they lay in bed together, arms wrapped about each other and legs intertwined; and in between making out, they promised to converse the way they always do over the break, when they’re separated by space and time: sending memes and anecdotes as they arise, replying when they find time, and scheduling video calls for 8 PM Pacific Standard Time at least twice weekly. They were already as close as they could get, so they believed that their dynamic, essentially, would be the same. Just with the addition of kisses, a difference they both appreciated...and attempted to stock up on for the upcoming month of drought. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mark’s mom had telepathy or whatever, because literally as soon as she welcomed him on the doorstep of their home, she had zeroed in on the latest development in her son’s life. Mark would report this to Yukhei that night on their first couples FaceTime, as he’s lying in his bed (which he’d missed terribly) and Yukhei is sauteing veggies for lunch (which Mark had also started to miss terribly). “I’m deadass serious, dude: the instant she pulled back from hugging me, she tilted her head to the side and was giving me this look like she was inspecting me. I even got to rubbing my face because I thought there was something on it. And then she said, ‘Markiepoo, you’re glowing...are you and Yukhei finally dating?’ I hadn't even decided how to broach the topic with my family, but of course mom would beat me to it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yukhei had only laughed playfully, unfazed and still breezily running a spatula across the wok. “And she asked if we were </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> dating? How much did your mom know to begin with, man?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mark got a little (a lot) shy then before he replied. “Well I could never stop talking about you; then one time she saw me while we were FaceTime-ing, and I probably had the biggest smile on my face. When I came down for breakfast the next morning she asked if I was talking to you, so I said yes. And she had this teasing look on her face which told me she already knew and was only waiting for me to tell her, so I ended up just blurting it out, ‘Yes, mom, I have a big, fat crush on my probably straight roommate. I’m such a clich</span>
  <span>é</span>
  <span>.’ And she just laughed! I was actually lowkey offended because it was a serious source of teenage angst to me, thank you very much. But as it turned out, she was giggling because she thought I was being dramatic and counting myself out too early. And then at dinner she announced it to the whole family. You should have been there, Hei. The way she said it it was like I got straight A’s on all of my courses. She was so excited.” Mark downright blushed and proceeded to cover his face with a hand as he concluded his story, and Yukhei laughed and told him he wanted to see him, furiously flushing cheeks and all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Does...your family know you like guys?” He quietly asked Yukhei after he’d calmed down some from embarrassment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really, Mark? Right in front of my salad?” Mark briefly wondered if it were a sensitive topic and was about to backtrack when he saw Yukhei was grinning as he replied. “Yeah, they do. It was a bit of a shocker to them when I said it, but mostly because they didn’t see it coming. They had pretty clear, I guess stereotypical ideas of how someone gay looked or behaved, or what interests they had; and they didn’t reconcile me with that image they held in their minds, so my coming out really surprised them. But when they’d gotten over the shock they were pretty chill about it. They’ve always been very liberal in their parenting so it wasn’t a big deal. Although they’re not nearly as relaxed about it to tease me about boys like your mom does.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They shared a few seconds of companionable quiet, as Mark allowed himself to digest this information about Yukhei, and as Yukhei started to plate what he was cooking the whole time they’d been talking. “I don’t expect you to tell them about us, Yuk, if you aren’t ready or you think they aren’t ready.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yukhei seemed to be thoughtfully pondering Mark’s words, head still bowed down as he fiddled with a pair of chopsticks. When he looked up, Mark saw a face of determination. “No, I’ll tell them. In fact I think I’ll tell them after lunch. Like I said, I don’t expect them to make a fuss out of it, and I’d like to believe they’ll be happy for me. After all I’ve also talked a lot about you before, and they seemed like they were endeared by you, man.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mark had chuckled before replying, “Isn’t it funny that we’re still calling each other dude and bro and man?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh...I guess it just slips without us thinking twice about it. But then again it’s only been what, two days? ...Does it make you uncomfortable now?”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Not at all. I just noticed as we were talking and I found it interesting. But it’s definitely chill.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, now that you’ve mentioned it, it’s actually pretty nice if you think about it...because it only shows we were best friends before we started dating. And I think that’s really cool.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mark could only fondly agree. And then they said their goodbyes as Yukhei’s parents strode into the dining room for lunch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yukhei did end up telling his parents about him and Mark dating; and, as he’d hoped for and anticipated, they were glad for their son. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Over the next week, Mark and Yukhei proceeded like they usually did when home for the break. Only one time, in the middle of a video call, Mark’s mom had gone up behind him to wave excitedly at Yukhei and tell her how thrilled she was that they were finally a couple. “Xuxi (can I call you Xuxi?), I always told Markiepoo not to assume you were straight. He’d say it was the way you talked or what you were into, and I’d tell him: Mark, you talk the same way as Yukhei, you’re into the same things as Yukhei, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> aren’t straight. And you’re so handsome I just knew you’d look so good together!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She had said all that in ten seconds, that Mark couldn’t even be sure that Yukhei had understood. She had also hogged the screen so Mark was unable to gauge the look on Yukhei’s face as his mom gushed about their relationship. If that weren’t mortifying enough, before she gave his phone back and left to wash the dishes, she had also pinched Mark’s cheek, ruffled his hair, and called him her “patootie.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well she’s right about you being a patootie. Only you’re not just her patootie now, you’re also </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> patootie.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, Yukhei Wong, spare me this last, minuscule fragment of my dignity...Or, I guess...at least let me call you my patootie too.” God he and Yukhei have become fully fledged, certifiable saps</span>
  <span>TM</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They FaceTimed when it was Christmas Eve in Vancouver and Christmas morning in Hong Kong; with Mark in the most horrendous holiday sweater (it had become a twisted tradition in their household) and a pair of sequined red antlers, and Yukhei in a blanket burrito with a splitting hangover from all the celebratory wine the night before. They’d exchanged presents at the start of finals week, to prevent the risk of forgetting about it in the wake of back-to-back exams and the whirlwind of stress and confusion that is last-minute cramming; but they were only now opening them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s open in one, two, three!” Mark had gotten the cutest lion print case for his new iPhone, while he’d bought Yukhei a three-piece set of Star Wars-themed storage containers that he came across on Facebook once. Yukhei had regaled him of the meal they had the night before, including a couple of dishes he himself cooked, which he promised he’d make for Mark when they returned to school. But when Mark’s mom called him to the living room for pre-dinner family portraits, he waved Yukhei a quick goodbye and yeet-ed out of his room before she could walk in again on their video call and embarrass him in front of Xuxi. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pretty soon they were packing for the trip back to college, which, as usual, was a complicated emotional affair: bitter for having to leave their family and home, but simultaneously sweet for their reunion...and what Mark is sure will be a day-long makeout-and-cuddle sesh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yukhei had already settled back into the dorm the morning of Mark’s own flight back. It was only a three-hour flight from Vancouver to LA so he’d pushed his trip as far back as the Sunday before classes started. He was sure that Yukhei was jetlagged like hell and probably passed out on bed, so Mark didn’t expect the message that came in when he was breakfasting on cereal. Yukhei had attached two selcas of him at the supermarket: one with a still empty pushcart, and then another at the exit holding grocery bags. The actual message only read, “see u later ;)” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Was Yukhei coming through with his promise to cook Mark the dishes he prepared for his parents last Christmas? He didn’t expect him to do that literally their first day back. How did he have the energy for an early morning grocery run and cooking? How was he even awake?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next notification from Yukhei came in just as Mark was saying his goodbyes and heading out to the airport. And it wasn’t even a text. It was a Twitter notification informing him that Yukhei had posted a new video. Yukhei posted a food video? Of a dish he just cooked this morning? He’d never known Yukhei to make same-day edits. Again he wondered, how did he have the energy for this? Mark was highkey confused. He went to the tweet and pressed play right after he’d settled into the passenger seat and secured his seatbelt. His older brother raised an eyebrow from the driver’s seat but said nothing more about it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’d made churro cheesecake bars, apparently, and Mark had been floored even more than he already was that Yukhei made anything to begin with. But why, you ask, had the particular recipe given him pause? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He remembered going to Santa Monica Beach with Yukhei their very first weekend of school all the way: back when they were freshmen, new to the country and to living with each other. They hadn’t actually swum because it was a weekend and hence expectedly crowded, but they did casually stroll along the pier while sightseeing and getting to know each other. They were very touristy, even purchasing postcards to send their parents back home and riding the ferris wheel as the sun went down. “I never knew sunsets could look this way,” Yukhei had breathed out, awestruck, in  quiet admiration of the way a line of brilliant gold divided the heavens from the sea. Mark, more used to the chill of Canada than the beaches of LA, could only nod mutely, equally amazed as Yukhei at the sight that lay in front of them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mark didn’t quite fall in love with Yukhei that day; that came much later, when he learned more about his roommate ⏤ learned the details of his life that he’d never shared with anyone else, learned the side of his persona that only Mark had been privy to, and learned all the ways they complemented each other, cared for each other, found a home in each other. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But if Mark really thought about it, it was that day on the beach that he’d felt the first stirrings of fondness for Yukhei: a fondness that, over the coming years, he would attempt (in futility) to ignore, to squash, to misrepresent as something less consequential than the actual depth of feeling and </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he bore for this man. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And it was right as they alighted the ferris wheel, still in dumbstruck admiration, when Yukhei’s stomach loudly grumbled to announce that he was hungry (though he was always hungry, Mark would later find). There was a cart selling churros in their immediate line of sight, and it was just their luck that there wasn’t much of a line when they approached the congenial vendor manning the stall. They had asked for a cone of churros, and almost dazedly watched the lines of dough going into the oil and turning brown. Yukhei asked Mark if he minded a lot of cinnamon, to which he shook his head to signal that it was fine. Yukhei lit up in excitement, and then proceeded to vigorously shake the canister over their churros, practically drowning every visible surface in a thick coating of cinnamon sugar. He had smiled like an indulged little boy after, when he looked up at Mark, passing him a heavily dusted stick and tapping his own with it in a semblance of a toast. Mark had gingerly nibbled on the still hot churro, and all he could register with that first bite was that it was hella sweet and hella spicy (yeap Yukhei had gone overboard with that cinnamon sugar). But when he glanced up at the other boy and saw him positively radiant with satisfaction, he didn’t have the heart to tell him off. He just let Yukhei eat the rest of the packet and fondly watched him devour every stick.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As Mark reminisced on this early core memory of him and Yukhei, he wondered if Yukhei also thought of this particular memory when choosing to make these churro cheesecake bars...and if he also started falling just a little for Mark then. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A small smile tugged at his lips. Somehow he knew that </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, yes this was what inspired Yukhei’s new food video. From the corner of his eyes, he registered his brother giving him an odd look from where he’d waited for the light to turn green. But Mark couldn’t be bothered: Yukhei was thinking of him at this moment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fully fledged, certifiable saps</span>
  <span>TM</span>
  <span> (2)</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he was lounging at the terminal and waiting to board his flight, Mark received another notification from Twitter. It was a photo of mac and cheese in a skillet, and absolutely appetizing at that, what with the glorious, sharp yellow pool of cheese bathing the noodles, the golden brown bread crumb crust on top, and of course the sprinkling of Yukhei’s iconic “parsleeeeey.” And then his eyes went to the caption and he proceeded to blush profusely.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yukhei had captioned the photo with “ma(r)c and cheese 👨❤️💋👨🧀👌” and the link to his old video in which he demonstrated the recipe.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Actually...if Mark thought back on it, Yukhei also first made this dish early on in their relationship. It was about halfway through their first semester, when Mark should have already been reasonably adjusted to his new environment but instead was still struggling to adapt. He knew that college wasn’t going to be some walk in the park, but that knowledge doesn’t fully prepare you for how actually difficult it is, nor does it save you from the exhaustion of juggling multiple courses, insensibly demanding professors, tenuous new relationships, and establishing a sense of normalcy after you’d just been uprooted from everything and everyone you’ve ever known.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even the chores that Mark hadn’t given much thought to back home, those little everyday things that his mom carried out without fanfare or the need for acknowledgment, became suddenly obtrusive and overwhelming in his mind. Dirty laundry wasn’t just thrown in the hamper anymore, to be washed, pressed, folded, and replaced in his closet. The floor wasn’t just magically vacuumed; the mold in the bathroom wasn’t just going to disappear. And the food, oh, the food. Mark had to thoughtfully manage his budget, then go to the supermarket himself, and after that prepare his own meals. Mark, whom his family and friends endlessly teased for his uncanny ability to mess up a fried egg. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After he’d depleted his initial stock of groceries and home-cooked meals in Tupperware containers, he’d had to suffice on a diet primarily consisting of sugary cereal, Nutella on toast, and instant ramen. University was hard enough as it is, and Mark Lee had had to navigate it on empty carbs, twice his daily sodium requirement, and an amount of caffeine that he sure was just shy of an overdose.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One time, when the feeling of homesickness was almost paralytically unbearable and yet he was too shy to call his mom about it, he bought a box of mac-and-cheese from the supermarket and attempted to make it, in the littlest pot that till then he’d only used to cook instant ramen. It even had a faint line of reddish powder tenaciously adhering to the rim from where he only hesitantly scrubbed it when washing, afraid he’d damage the nonstick coating or something like that. He opened the box, took out the two packs, and set them on the counter. He retrieved the jug of milk from their fridge, and the pepper and salt shakers from the cupboard. He slowly, carefully read the instructions on the side of the box, making sure he understood and not wanting to screw up each of the three steps that the manufacturer had painted to be mindlessly simple. “It’s just like making ramen, Mark Lee, don’t overthink it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in fact, just like making ramen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The pack said to boil the noodles for seven to eight minutes, but evidently the heat must have been too low; because even past the upper limit, the macaroni was closer in texture to an elbow pipe than an actually edible noodle. Frustrated that he’d already encountered a speed bump on the first step, he cranked up the heat on their stove. But of course the noodles had gone too soft. Not wanting to overcook it any more than it already was, he frantically tried to drain it in the sink. But of course he nearly scalded a hand with the boiling water, and then spilled half the noodles when he reflexively let go of the handle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s ok, Mark Lee, there’s still half the noodles left. Half full, not half empty, Mark Lee. Think half full, not half empty...okay let’s get it.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t have butter. Even after reading and rereading the steps just a couple of minutes before, he still apparently missed a detail. The recipe called for butter and they didn’t have it. Nearing his wit’s end, Mark had just chosen to forego it, thinking just the cheese powder and milk would suffice. But it didn’t say how much to add. Shit, he’s gonna have to wing it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fast forward to five minutes after: a soppy, yellow mass of </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> was dumped in the bin, on top of the usual college boy trash that was scrap paper and instant ramen packs; the pot, uncleaned and still with patches of congealing yellow liquid, lay in the sink next to the spilled macaroni from earlier; and Mark Lee was prostrate in bed and quietly sobbing into his duvet. He was hungry, homesick, hopeless, and just so exhausted. He’d cried himself to sleep and on an empty stomach, feeling the worst that he’d ever been in his life and wondering if he hadn't made a mistake by going there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unsurprisingly, he went to school the next day feeling awful. And he stayed feeling awful the whole day. But at least he had mustered enough self-control to actually attend his classes; because as he fell asleep the night before, he was already planning to call his parents and ask to tap out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then when he came home to their dorm at the end of the day...he was in for the surprise of his life.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Because there at their kitchen table, beaming up at him from his seat, was Yukhei. And a skillet of mac and cheese before him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a minute, Mark just stood where he was by the doorway: frozen, mute, holding back the tears that had started to well in his eyes. He opened then closed his mouth a few times, wanting to speak but finding he couldn’t form the words. But Yukhei had just continued to smile at him, warmly, resolutely, and before long Mark found his legs taking him to the table, steps a little wobbly from the force of emotion that had taken hold of him when he’d opened the door and caught sight of this view. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He took his seat opposite Yukhei (the chair had already been pulled out), and then Yukhei was scooping out of the skillet and serving him a plate. And in doing so, in the act of holding out that plate to Mark, Yukhei was offering more than just physical sustenance; he was offering comfort, consolation, the beginnings of a friendship that ran deep, and the promise of dependability, of looking out for each other without prompting, without words, </span>
  <em>
    <span>with love</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I woke up this morning and, for some reason I can’t explain, I just felt like making mac and cheese for dinner tonight.” Yukhei had proffered halfway through their meal (which was delicious, by the way), and Mark had indulged him with a smile and a nod. Yukhei knew he wasn’t fooling Mark, when Mark had woken up that morning and found that the sink was empty and the trash taken out. But he knew what his roommate was doing: he was conveying to Mark that he need not feel obliged that Yukhei had done this for him, that it was something he wanted to do, and that he wasn’t asking Mark for an explanation if he didn’t have the energy to talk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t even know that you cooked, much less this well.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Neither did I, Mark. But I guess you could do a lot of things with a Google search and the desire to try.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mark still regularly thought about what Yukhei said that night, was thinking about it as he reminisced at the airport while preparing to board his flight. In the years to come since then, Yukhei had only gotten better at what he did, cooking more creative and complicated dishes to Mark’s perpetual admiration. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The food videos started the semester after Mark’s mac-and-cheese breakdown, and Mark was there for all of the milestones: the first 500 followers, Twitter verifying his account, the feature in the university paper, and the eventual international exposure. Mark, the writer friend, helped Yukhei phrase his answers and polish his sentences from when the Times emailed him a set of questions and a request for an interview. Mark was right beside him, just a scooch outside the camera’s field of view, when Yukhei was doing said interview through Skype. His answers were transcribed so the actual video wasn’t published; but if it were, you’d see Yukhei looking to his right every so often, using Mark as his own human teleprompter and emotional anchor rolled into one. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mark had printed out all of Yukhei’s interviews on glossy paper, then framed and hung them in their living room, relentlessly proud of what Yukhei was achieving and how much of an influence he was creating with their generation of 20-somethings trying their knack at adulting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And not once throughout his breakout stardom did Yukhei let the features and the fame get to his head. He was still Yukhei Wong, college student and unpretentious homie. And as Mark fondly looked down at the photo that Yukhei just tweeted, from where he had settled into his window seat and was waiting for takeoff, he knew, with the confidence of a best friend, that even after all these years and the ones to come, Yukhei would never forget how his culinary career all started ⏤</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With Mark breaking down...and Yukhei doing anything to cheer him up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mark is buzzing. His phone was set to airplane mode during the flight; so when he switches it back to cellular, he’s notified of a text from Yukhei. He’s hoping that Mark landed safely, and asks him to send a text after he’d landed. He appreciates the thought, but they both know Mark was going to do that anyway. Even early on in their relationship, when they realized the both of them wanted a friendship from their arrangement, and not just the bare minimum civil cohabitation, they started to inform the other of their plans and whereabouts as a way of looking out for each other. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They never explicitly agreed to it, nor was it ever required, but they had made it into a habit anyway, one that would eventually prove useful over the coming years: when Yukhei knew Mark was in the common room studying late into the night, he would bring him a sandwich and a cup of coffee, keep him company, then close his book for him when he thought that Mark’s mind had had enough for the day (his cue was when Mark had yet to flip the page after twenty minutes); and when Mark knew Yukhei was at a party, he’d check in through text at scheduled intervals, keep his phone with him at all times in anticipation of a text from Yukhei, and then book him a cab when he was ready to come home but too inebriated to get his massive fingers to book him a ride himself (his cue was literally any variation of a keyboard smash from Yukhei; because even though he hadn’t yet meant to go home, if he could no longer type out some semblance of a coherent message, Mark was taking him home).</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So he sent texts to his mom and then to Yukhei as he waited at the baggage carousel for his suitcase, informing them he’d landed safely and was going to book a cab promptly. His mom, ever suspicious, instructed him to message her the cab’s license plate as a safety measure; and, ever doting, also asked for a selca of him at the airport, never mind that they’d just seen each other literally not even a full four hours back. Yukhei, on the other hand, replied with a simple “can’t wait to see u : )” with absolutely no explanation for or allusion to his making two dishes within, what, six hours.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The ride back is uneventful, simultaneously feeling like it were too slow and that it happens within the blink of an eye, Mark positively giddy and raring to try Yukhei’s mac and cheese and churro cheesecake bars. The driver probably picks up on his impatience through his quiet veneer, and thankfully leaves him be with his thoughts. When they finally arrive at his building, Mark greets the driver with a warm and courteous thank you (his momma might have raised a hoe, but she raised this hoe right), and then politely waves him off when he gestures to help with his one suitcase.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He waves hello at the security personnel manning the entrance and front desk, briefly stopping by to hand them the fruitcake bars his mom had made especially for his dorm’s employees. Mark watched her mix the dough to check that she didn’t overdo the brandy: the last thing they needed was to get the guards hammered while on the job (Mark isn’t sure, and doesn’t want to have to find out, but he thinks that might be grounds for a lawsuit: hard pass).</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After he’d fulfilled his job as Mrs. Lee’s little helper, he gets into the elevator and deadass counts the floors until he gets to their level. He probably should chill, he’s spent longer than six weeks away from Yukhei before, but there’s a bounce to his step anyway as he walks to their room, like some lovesick teenage protagonist in an early 2000s romcom. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he gets closer to their dorm, he registers the distinct sound of Yukhei’s voice, although the words are unintelligible from this distance. And just as he steps in front of their door, the sound disappears abruptly, like Yukhei were anticipating the very moment of his arrival and didn’t want his boisterous voice to drown out the patter of Mark’s footsteps on the hallway floor. And then Mark turns the key.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a scene straight out of a movie. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Like that romcom he’s apparently still in. Or one of his wildest dreams.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Here he is, you guys!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mark notices four things one after the other. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One: why is it so dim? Did they forget to pay the electricity bill last month while they were stressing for finals? Do the light bulbs need replacing? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Two: that one good table they have in their dorm ⏤ the one where they’re meant to have their meals instead of on the floor, the one that’s mostly being used for Yukhei’s food videos ⏤ is pushed to the center of the living room, right smack in Mark’s immediate line of vision, and there is a candelabra on top. Why is Lumiere on the table? Where did Xuxi even get a candelabra? There are also plates, cutlery, and food on the table; but Mark glosses over them in his mind because why is there a candelabra?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Three: to the side of and just a little behind the camera is Yukhei’s phone on a tripod. He’s recording, which explains why Mark had heard him talking when he was still in the hallway approaching their room. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> is he recording...and why is Mark in the frame for literally the first time ever in all this time that he’s been making his food videos?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Four: Yukhei is dressed up. He’s turned away from Mark at the moment but the view is still hella fine. His hair glistens in the candlelight, telling Mark that he’d gelled and styled it; and he’s wearing an all-black number consisting of a turtleneck with the sleeves pushed back to his elbows, his tight chinos that he wears when he’s going for “thot, but make it classy,” and his dependable pair of classic black-and-white chucks. Damn, Mark is going woozy from dem broad shoulders, long legs, and… well, let’s just say his mind is playing Doja Cat’s “from the back, back, back” right now. And then Yukhei is turning around ⏤</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And he’s holding a bouquet of roses in his hands. “Welcome back, Mark.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a minute, Mark just stands where he is by the doorway: frozen, mute, holding back the tears that had started to well in his eyes. He opens then closes his mouth a few times, wanting to speak but finding he can’t form the words. But Yukhei just continues to smile at him, warmly, resolutely, and before long Mark finds his legs taking him to the table, steps a little wobbly from the force of emotion that had taken hold of him when he’d opened the door and caught sight of this view.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He takes the bouquet from Yukhei’s outstretched hand: they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>red</span>
  </em>
  <span> roses, figures. And then he stands on tiptoes, wraps his free arm around Yukhei’s neck, and kisses him on the cheek, enjoying the blush that blossoms at the rose of his cheeks and the shiver that runs through him and which Mark feels from where his lips make contact with Yukhei’s skin. When he pulls back, his eyes go back to the dinner table and suddenly the day all makes sense.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This is why, although he should have spent the day recuperating from a 12-hour flight, Yukhei had instead gone to the supermarket probably right as it opened, and messaged Mark about being excited to see him. This is why Yukhei had made all the food that he did, and why he’d chosen particular dishes that brought to mind some of their fondest and most memorable moments together ⏤ when they were just beginning to fall in love with each other, and then when Mark realized how much Yukhei really looked out and cared for him. This is why the lights are dim, there’s a candelabra on the table, Yukhei is wearing something other than an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, and Mark is holding a bouquet of roses in his hand while Yukhei looks adoringly down at him. They’re roommates, best friends, and now lovers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And this is their first date.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With Mark’s arm still wrapped around his shoulders, Yukhei pulls out the chair that’s closest to him and quirks an eyebrow, silently gesturing for Mark to take a seat. He does, setting the bouquet on his lap, and Yukhei pushes the chair in before going around to the opposite side of the table and assuming his own seat. Mark realizes that the camera is still rolling then, and sees his own face on the screen. God he looks so in love. “I can show you the footage later. I won’t post anything you don’t agree to...and I don’t know if I want to share you with the world anyway,” teases Yukhei, as he presses pause on the video and sets his phone and tripod to the side.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I missed you, Mark,” confesses Yukhei, as his hand finds Mark’s on the table and gently caresses it with his thumb.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I missed you too, Xuxi, so very much,” answers Mark, as he turns his palm upward and allows Yukhei to slide his fingers through the spaces in between his. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, this looks as good as I remember it,” proffers Mark after their indefinitely long eye-locking, finally diverting his attention to the food that Yukhei prepared.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh wait, this isn’t all!” exclaims Yukhei in recollection, hand letting go of Mark’s and standing up to go to the counter. When he comes back he’s proudly brandishing an as-yet-uncooked slab of steak on a plate, grinning like an excited puppy as he shows it to Mark. “I bought wagyu, Markie! With the money I got for Christmas!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yukhei! You’re crazy, dude. Are you sure you didn’t have to sell a kidney to afford this?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, don’t be ridiculous, Markie...I’m saving my kidney for a PS5. And whatchu talkin’ bout, everyone knows you’ve got to have steak on any respectable first date. Here, come on, I waited for you to arrive before cooking this bad boy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So Mark follows Yukhei back to the kitchen, leaning against the counter and making small conversation as Yukhei brings out a pan and starts to render the bit of fat that he trims off one end of the steak. While waiting for the fat to melt and sizzle, Yukhei lifts up the plate of wagyu again, instructing Mark to “take a second to appreciate that marbling, man” which he does, though mostly he’s stifling his smiles at how endearingly excited Yukhei looks about this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the oil starts to bubble, Yukhei places a piece of steak on the pan then seasons it with a sprinkling of salt and pepper. “This won’t take long, Markie, just a minute and a half on each side.” When he flips the steak over, Mark well and truly salivates at how beautifully browned the crust is. The two of them are practically vibrating as they count down the 90 seconds it takes to cook the other side. No disrespect to the ma(r)c and cheese, but it’s not every day that two broke college students get their hands on a sexy piece of Japanese beef. “Three, two, one, alright it’s done.” Yukhei uses his pair of tongs to lift the steak off the pan and onto his chopping board, before he promptly slices it down the center and into cubes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I saw this guy on YouTube eat it with salt, wasabi, and fried garlic, but maybe we should try it first as it is.” “Oh, for sure, dude.” So Yukhei hands him a pair of chopsticks and, like mirror images of each other (enantiomers, Mark’s mind supplies, from that one, small compartment of his memory labeled org chem), they bring the steak to their mouths at the same time, and...sweet baby Jesus it’s heaven. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mark has seen Yukhei cry while chewing before, that’s how intensely he feels about food, but this time is unlike all the others. This time his face practically morphs into that pleading face emoji: the one with the big, googly eyes and the tears shining from the corners of its eyes. And Mark thinks he probably looks the same, though not nearly as cute as Xuxi. They then have it next like Yukhei watched on YouTube, and then they bring it back to the table and dig into the mac and cheese as well.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yukhei uncorks a bottle of shiraz (Mark, who is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a sommelier, only knows that it’s fancy because it has a cork, not a screw cap or in a box like their cheap asses are used to having). Apparently, over one of their dinners during the break, Yukhei had mentioned the idea of cooking for Mark on their first date. His parents nodded in approval, traded looks, and then gifted him with one of their own bottles of wine for the occasion. So Mark gives a toast to Mr. and Mrs. Wong as they clink their best mugs together. Yes, they’re drinking hundred-dollar wine from two-dollar mugs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They catch up over the meal, filling the other person in on the stories that both of them saved for when they’re already talking face to face and not through a screen of pixels. The food is delicious, and Mark is once again awestruck by and grateful to Yukhei for all his culinary efforts. After they’d gone through all of the food, they swap out their clothes for their usual dorm attire then clean up and do the dishes, still casually conversing all the while.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mark decides to leave his unpacking for the next day, flopping onto his bed right after cleanup and letting Yukhei cuddle up to him. He turns his head to the side, just as he hears Yukhei’s breathing start to grow slow, and tells him what he hopes is the sincerest “thank you” he can convey. Yukhei smiles softly in answer, then moves a tad closer to press a kiss to Mark’s forehead, before he closes his eyes and promptly drifts off to well-deserved sleep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s funny, muses Mark, in the time that it takes sleep to overtake him next: he’d fully imagined an hours-long makeout marathon with Yukhei the first time they met after the past six weeks of separation; and yet they haven’t even gone beyond pecks on the cheek and forehead. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But when he thinks about today, all the memories that he’d remembered, and the romantic surprise that Yukhei had lay out for him, he wouldn’t have had it any differently.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mark Lee and Yukhei Wong: roommates, best friends, now lovers. First date: check. //</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>their first date was actually supposed to be the final part of "blame it on the rat," but when i was writing the confession scene i realized that was a good time to end it; alas, what was originally a oneshot has become a series instead</p>
<p>idk when i'll get to writing the next part of this series, i guess i'll wait for newt to post new vids and inspire me ✨ speaking of which, do check him out on twitter @milktpapi if u haven't yet! like last time, the dishes in this fic are inspired by actual food videos from newt (not to mention the boy is hella fine and hella funny aka lucas wong)</p>
<p>also 90s love and work it are bops! we nctzens are being fed yaas 😌 markctzens how we dealin' with hockey player mark lee</p></blockquote></div></div>
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